The Long Road Home
by Nyx6
Summary: When Christian returns home with his daughter yes, I know... born out of wedlock he has to face his parents. Just short, angsty, dramatic kinda stuff. Rated for a little bit of swearing. Plz RR my first MR fic!
1. One

May 25th 1904  
  
They turned into a road of tall, white, immaculate buildings, with black railings up the steps to the front doors, and built in a semi-circle, over- looking a small park, with tall slender trees and benches in secluded spots by the paths.  
  
The coach jerked to a standstill outside one of the neat houses, and the driver swung down to open the door. A dark-haired man stepped out, and paused to look up at the house before him with a sigh.  
  
"Number sixty-two Sir," the driver, still holding the door provided cheerily.  
  
Christian handed him a coin and watched him tip his hat in return,  
  
"Much obliged Sir," he turned to look inside the carriage with a broad smile, "Now, come on little Missy, can't have you sittin' in here all day now!"  
  
The coach bobbed around as someone jumped down from the seats inside, and Christian turned to lift his small daughter off the steps and into his arms.  
  
"You have a nice day now Sir,"  
  
The driver pulled himself back on top of the carriage,  
  
"And yourself," Christian called back, somewhat less cheerily.  
  
It was five years since he'd last seen this house. He'd hardly missed it if he was honest, but now as he climbed the steps and reached forward to ring the doorbell it felt like he'd never left.  
  
He let his daughter slide down his side to stand beside him, and took up her little hand in his. She looked particularly pretty today he noted with a smile. In her white frock and pink sash. She looked nothing much like either of her parents, not at first glance anyway. As her bright blonde hair resembled neither, however she had big green eyes, that sparkled with excitement and mischief the way her mother's had, and she had his infectious smile. Not that he had much to smile about any more, except her.  
  
The door clicking open drew his attention back to the present, and he looked up into the very startled face of his parent's housekeeper Mrs. Beckett, who began to turn a ghostly shade of white.  
  
"Master Christian?" she asked, her face crumpling into a disbelieving frown,  
  
Christian straightened up at once, and nodded a greeting,  
  
"Mrs. Beckett,"  
  
There was a small pause before she stepped aside to let him in, staring hard as the pair walked past and straight into the parlor.  
  
Christian sat his daughter up on a chair, and crouched down to face her,  
  
"We won't be here long. But papa's just got to do this ok? Then how about we go and see that puppet show we passed on the way here?"  
  
Her eyes grew wide in excitement,  
  
"Punch and Judy?" she whispered, keeping her voice low in this strange house.  
  
Christian gave a small smile at her pleasure and nodded.  
  
"Promise?" she whispered again.  
  
Christian threw her a wink,  
  
"Promise."  
  
Footsteps sounded in the hall outside and he stood to face the door, which opened seconds later.  
  
A tall man appeared in the doorway, pale and weary with age, his face fiery with barely controlled rage, eyes cold and piercing. Behind him, was a woman, with short dull blonde hair, and who looked almost apprehensive.  
  
"Christian?! - " Theodore Molland snapped savagely, but stopped suddenly as his eyes came to rest on the small girl perched on one of his armchairs.  
  
Christian followed his gaze, and his daughter looked up at him, uncertain and frightened under the harsh glare of the strangers in the doorway.  
  
"Who is this?" his father, voice wavering, trying to stay calm, asked. Christian drew himself up tall.  
  
"This is your grandchild, my daughter, Marie-Aline,"  
  
Years ago he would have been frightened stiff telling his father something of this nature, but now he himself was a father, and he didn't want his daughter to see him frightened.  
  
His mother, who had been staring at him intently now gasped,  
  
"My what?" asked Theodore, incredulously,  
  
"Your granddaughter," Christian replied calmly,  
  
"Christian," Josephine Molland breathed out in shock and looked up to stare at him. She sighed, "Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
Christian looked at his mother somewhat apologetically,  
  
"There's never been a good time. Besides, I didn't want an offer of help. I wanted to do this by myself."  
  
Josephine now walked past her husband and bent down next to Marie with a sad smile,  
  
"Hello," she smiled softly,  
  
Marie blushed and bit her lip timidly. She looked up to Christian for guidance and he nodded reassuringly,  
  
"Hello," her answer was barely audible, but an answer none the less, and Josephine seemed pleased with it, her smile widening.  
  
Theodore now broke his gaze,  
  
"Where is your wife?" he asked gruffly, as if he neither needed nor cared for the answer,  
  
Christian swallowed.  
  
"I have no wife."  
  
Josephine turned to look,  
  
"You are widowed?"  
  
Christian looked down at his feet in order to fight away the lump that was forming in his throat,  
  
"Marie's mother, the woman I loved..." he saw his father's eyes flicker at the last word, "...and who loved me in return, died in my arms four years ago when Marie was but a few days old. I am not a widow. We were never married."  
  
His father let out a sigh of anger and his mother gasped, standing up and backing away from Marie as if she were diseased.  
  
"My god," Theodore, his head clasped in his hand groaned from beside the big bay windows, he looked up, eyes blazing angrily, "You stupid boy..."  
  
Christian glared back,  
  
"Don't raise your voice in front of Marie father,"  
  
Theodore fumed,  
  
"I'll raise my voice in front of who I damn well like in my house!"  
  
Josephine sat down as if overcome by all the news and shook her head,  
  
"Five years, and not a word. Now this."  
  
"And now you waltz back in and present us with the bastard grandchild of a French whore!"  
  
Theodore's outrage came out as more of a growl, and Christian shot back a look of anger, his voice edgy with emotion  
  
"Don't talk about either of them that way."  
  
"Why not?" Theodore was not put off, "Is it not true? Tell me it's not true?"  
  
Christian kept silent and Theodore snorted,  
  
"Didn't think so."  
  
In the silence that followed Christian turned and picked Marie up,  
  
"I think we've out-stayed our welcome."  
  
He strode past his parents into the hall and towards the front door where Mrs. Beckett was still waiting.  
  
"Christian!"  
  
His mother was in the parlor doorway,  
  
"Where are you going? You can't leave again!"  
  
Christian paused on the front door step,  
  
"I'm renting an address in town. I'll forward it to you."  
  
He caught sight of his father glaring at him from the windows and lowered Marie to the ground as the door shut behind them.  
  
He sighed and stared up at the blue clouds, suddenly wishing, with an almighty urge that she was there to throw her arms around him, sing into his ear, just touch him, hold his hand, anything.  
  
Someone took his hand up gently, and he looked down into Marie's worried eyes,  
  
"Smile papa," she said quietly,  
  
He couldn't not when asked so innocently.  
  
"How about that puppet show now?" he asked wearily,  
  
Marie nodded eagerly, and they walked down the steps and into the park.  
  
Chancing a last look over his shoulder, he saw a watching figure in the front room window and sighed.  
  
It was going to be a long road back. 


	2. Two

June 7th 1904  
  
Sleep had a hard time finding Christian, as it had done ever since his return to Britain. He couldn't remember such bad nights since...  
  
His head turned as his door swung slowly open.  
  
She was there. A tall, graceful figure, fiery hair falling around her shoulders, eyes resting lovingly on him, whispering something,  
  
"Papa?"  
  
He blinked and she was gone. In her place, a tiny silhouette against the moonlight.  
  
Christian was alert at once, propping himself up on his elbows,  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Marie, trailing a small, well-loved teddy bear padded softly up to the bed, sniffing with distress,  
  
"I had a bad dream."  
  
He pulled back the bed covers and lifted her up. At once she snuggled closer towards him, her thumb instinctively seeking her mouth, and her fingers curling round her nose as Christian tucked her in,  
  
Leaning back against the bed-head he leant over and pulled open the curtains, so clear deep blue light shone in around the room,  
  
"Better?"  
  
Marie nodded and he watched as she struggled to sleep, taking in deep breaths in the after-math of having obviously cried.  
  
Her eyelids dropped slowly every so often, but whenever they closed fully, they would spring open again and she would sniff,  
  
He smiled, and looked down, starting to sing ever so softly,  
  
**  
  
I would die for you,  
  
Lay down my life for you,  
  
The only thing that means everything,  
  
To me,  
  
Cause when you're in my arms,  
  
You make me prouder,  
  
Than anything I ever could achieve,  
  
And you make everything that used to  
  
Seem so big  
  
Seem to be so small since you arrived,  
  
On angels wings, an  
  
Angelical formation  
  
Angels wings like letters in the sky,  
  
Now I know no matter what  
  
The question,  
  
Love is the answer it's written on  
  
Angel's wings  
  
And I often wonder why someone as  
  
Flawed as I  
  
Deserves to be as happy as you make me  
  
So as the years roll by  
  
I'll be there by your side  
  
I'll follow you wherever your heart  
  
Takes me  
  
Cause you make everything that used to  
  
Be so big,  
  
Seem to be so small since you arrived,  
  
Now anyone who's felt the touch of  
  
Heaven in their lives  
  
Will know the way I'm feeling looking in  
  
My baby's eyes  
  
That's why I can't bear to be too  
  
Far away,  
  
I know that God must love me cause he  
  
Sent you to me on angel's wings.  
  
**  
  
Her eyes finally closed, and she slept contentedly by his side.  
  
He stroked a piece of hair off her face and gazed down. She was his last reminder of her.  
  
The most beautiful women he'd ever known had given him her, the most beautiful little girl he'd ever known.  
  
He slid down slightly in bed and turned to look up at the moon.  
  
She was up there somewhere, looking down on them.  
  
He closed his eyes, and for the first time that night, he slept. 


	3. Three

8th June 1904  
  
Christian could barely contain his surprise as he opened the door.  
  
"Mother."  
  
Josephine swept past him into the apartment and wrinkled her nose at the surroundings before walking into one of the rooms and taking a seat.  
  
Christian followed and stood in the doorway, frowning with puzzlement in the following silence.  
  
"Was there something you wanted?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
Josephine sniffed and looked up, as if noticing him for the first time,  
  
"Where is Marie?"  
  
Christian frowned,  
  
"In her room."  
  
Josephine nodded and turned to look straight a head, a silence falling between them once more. Christian stepped further into the room intrigued,  
  
"Your father and I are worried," she blurted out suddenly. Christian perched slowly on the arms of one of the chairs.  
  
"About what?"  
  
Josephine paused, as if not sure how to say the next sentence,  
  
"Unmarried single parents, especially men from good families can attract a lot of unwanted gossip..."  
  
Christian groaned, and gave a laugh of disbelief as Josephine carried on unperturbed,  
  
"...We, your father and myself feel that you, unaccustomed to such behavior, and, still evidently pining for the loss of...the child's mother," she practically forced the last words out, "Would cope badly..."  
  
"Mother," Christian interrupted, "What did you come here to tell me,"  
  
Josephine squirmed ever so slightly under his gaze,  
  
"Under the circumstances we feel that..." she paused again, "...there are many married, well to do couples, in our aqaintence who have not been blessed with children, and I'm sure that, if asked to keep a degree of secrecy..."  
  
Christian looked across the room at his mother in outrage,  
  
"Are you trying to suggest I give Marie to someone else?"  
  
Josephine sighed,  
  
"Just give it some thought..."  
  
Christian exploded crossly,  
  
"No! Marie is my daughter! She's part of me! I have taken care of her for four years, since she was a tiny baby! She's the one reminder of her mother that I have, and for you to even suggest this..."  
  
"Christian," Josephine's tone was that of a mother telling a child to stop misbehaving, "We...I just want you to be happy."  
  
Christian shook his head,  
  
"I am happy. Marie makes me happy, watching her grow up into a beautiful little person makes me happy!"  
  
Josephine sighed as if Christian was not listening to her.  
  
"But, you're not the fathering sort of boy,"  
  
Christian stood up,  
  
"How do you know? You've spent no more than five minutes in our company!"  
  
He stalked out into the hallway, and she followed in a hurried manner, sighing dejectedly as he swung open the front door,  
  
"Christian please! You're my son! I say these things because I know! I know you."  
  
Before swinging shut the door, Christian shook his head,  
  
"No. Things have changed. You used to know me." 


	4. Four

June 10th 1904  
  
The picnic had been Marie's idea.  
  
As soon as she had woken and seen the sun shining through her bedroom window onto her bedspread, she'd been filled with the idea of spreading a rug out somewhere in the park and eating cold meats, pickles and jams.  
  
So, there he was, dragged away from his creative labour on the balcony, where he'd been perched on a small chair with a pencil and a piece of paper, scribbling verses and ideas down roughly. Now sprawled out on a large blanket, leant to him by his housekeeper Mrs. Moore, and safe guarding a picnic hamper filled with goodies.  
  
He let the sunshine fall onto his face, warming his skin, and tried to remember the last time he'd felt as relaxed. It had been a long, long time.  
  
A shadow stood in front of him, blocking the light, and he squinted up.  
  
Marie stuck out a hand, clasped in it, and springing lightly, was a bunch of white daisies, the ends of their petals tipped with pink splashes of colour.  
  
He sat up, taking them gently,  
  
"Thank you, they're beautiful,"  
  
Marie settled herself down in his lap, and watched as he punched vertical holes in their stems one by one, before taking a single daisy and threading the stem carefully through the hole of another, before doing the same again,  
  
"What are you doing Papa?" Marie asked, her eyes transfixed on the chain of flowers forming before her,  
  
"I'm making you a crown of daisies,"  
  
Christian looped the last daisy round, effectively tying it off, and rested the small loop of flowers on top of Marie's almost white gold hair. It slid down to her forehead and she giggled as the petals tickled her skin.  
  
She stood up and turned to face him,  
  
"Perfect," Christian smiled, for once not feeling a wash of guilt that he was having fun without her there, or without thinking how much more enjoyable a moment would be with her there with them.  
  
He looked up, Marie was crouched down beside him now, placing a small buttercup into the empty buttonhole of his shirt.  
  
Her face was screwed up in concentration, her tongue poking out with the effort.  
  
He reached out and gently trapped her tongue between his thumb and forefinger,  
  
"What's this then?" he tugged it softly, and she whipped away giggling,  
  
"Papa," she giggled and sat back away from her, admiring her handiwork, "Perfect," she mimicked him, pleased with herself, and he couldn't help but smile and laugh.  
  
Suddenly, he jumped to his feet, and grabbed her under the arms, swinging her up and around in the air, before bringing her into his body and collapsing backwards to the ground with her lying on his chest.  
  
She giggled and straightened her crown of daisies again, he sat half-up and planted a small kiss on her cheek.  
  
Someone clearing their throat made them both look up.  
  
Christian groaned quietly as he pulled himself up, moving Marie off his chest and onto the rug beside him,  
  
"Mother."  
  
He eyed her carefully, aware that she could say something that might upset his daughter.  
  
"How long have you been there?"  
  
Josephine gave what he could only describe as a sad smile,  
  
"Long enough," it was said so softly that he could barely hear her.  
  
He smiled at Marie,  
  
"How about you go and collect some more daisies so we can make a chain for your Grandmother,"  
  
Marie nodded eagerly and moved off. Josephine came closer, waiting until she was out of earshot.  
  
"I..." there was a small, subdued pause, where Josephine looked as though she were summoning the courage to say something, "...apologise. My suggestion the other day was, nothing short of barbaric. You must understand, it's been a long time, the son I knew was not the type to raise a child single handed, but, you, obviously, are."  
  
Christian looked up, pleasantly surprised, and she carried on.  
  
"Seeing you with her now, makes me realise that, maybe, you are a better parent on your own than your father and I ever were, together."  
  
They both looked over to where the small four-year old was knelt on the soft grass picking up daisies.  
  
"She's my granddaughter, I know I'd never forgive myself if I didn't get to know her, if I just gave up on her because of my silly ideas of grandeur."  
  
Christian gave a small smile, knowing how much pride his mother had had to swallow in order to say everything she had.  
  
"She's a beautiful little person,"  
  
Josephine smiled softly at the depth of his words and sighed, as if eager to change the subject,  
  
"I'm, on my way home from town, would you like a lift to your apartments?"  
  
Christian looked up as Marie came to stand by his side, shyly offering the handful of flowers to Josephine, who took them carefully,  
  
"Why don't you join us for lunch. I'm sure Mrs. Moore packed more than enough food, she usually overcooks."  
  
Josephine looked startled, but eventually nodded,  
  
"That would be wonderful, and whilst we eat, you'd better tell me more about her mother."  
  
Christian eyed his mother, looking for any cynicism, but finding none, he settled down, with Marie beside him,  
  
"Mama was almost an actress," said Marie, her eyes sparkling as she mentioned the mother, of whom she'd been fed stories since she could remember.  
  
Seeing the look in Christian's eyes as he gazed down at his excitable young daughter, Josephine saw for the first time the depth of Christian's love for both his departed partner, and his child.  
  
"I'll talk to Theodore," she said, suddenly,  
  
Christian smiled,  
  
"I wouldn't waste your time mother."  
  
Josephine shook her head sternly,  
  
"No, I will talk to him. I will make him see sense, if he only does one thing for me in this marriage, it will be this," she looked over at Marie, with a kindly expression, "Now then, tell me more of your mother little one, I want to know all there is to know about her." 


	5. Five

13th June 1904  
  
This time when Mrs. Beckett opened the front door of the Molland's house, she was a little better prepared.  
  
Christian nodded,  
  
"Good morning Mrs. Beckett,"  
  
The housekeeper bobbed,  
  
"Sir."  
  
She stepped aside and Christian lead Marie through into the drawing room once more, sitting her in the same seat she had sat in before.  
  
She fidgeted apprehensively, aware of being in the room where her father had been so angry last time.  
  
Christian sighed as he waited for his parents to appear and shot a small reassuring smile at his daughter,  
  
The door opened slowly and soundlessly on the carpet and Christian looked up into the less than enthusiastic face of his father.  
  
"Father."  
  
Theodore simply ignored him, taking his spot by the window, and standing with his back to his son.  
  
Josephine, following behind sat herself down on one of the sofas, smiling at Christian, grateful to him for showing up.  
  
She grinned at Marie who gave a shy wave back.  
  
Christian turned to look at his father, and sighed at the way the meeting was already going.  
  
"Theodore," Josephine began softly from the couch.  
  
Theodore stiffened but ignored her, not even gracing them with a reply.  
  
Christian groaned crossly,  
  
"I'm sorry mother," he spread his hands apologetically, "I've tried, I've come here to make amends, but it's not going to make any good..."  
  
Josephine sighed in acknowledgement,  
  
"...He can't do this, not even for you. I've disappointed him and from his point of view nothing can make up for what I've done,"  
  
As he spoke, Marie shuffled off the each of the chair and sidled slowly up to Theodore at the windowsill.  
  
Josephine looked up intrigued, and Christian watched her warily,  
  
"Marie..."  
  
Ignoring her father, Marie tugged gently at the bottom of Theodore's jacket.  
  
Slowly, Theodore peered down, his face remaining stony and emotionless.  
  
The atmosphere in the room tensed as Christian and Josephine watched cautiously, trying to gage Theodore's reaction.  
  
As Theodore turned, Marie's face grew serious, and she stuck out a hand,  
  
"How do you do?"  
  
Despite himself, Christian burst out laughing, whilst Josephine smiled over fondly.  
  
Theodore frowned in surprise and slowly extended his own hand, which Marie grasped and gave a firm shake,  
  
Theodore coughed in bemusement, as he answered, somewhat gruffly, and haltingly,  
  
"Err...fine...thank you...oh, and...erm...yourself,"  
  
Marie smiled, pleased with the response,  
  
"I'm very well."  
  
Christian leaned over and pulled her back towards him, shaking his head in amusement,  
  
"Sorry, she's usually to shy to speak. I don't know what's gotten into her." Her mother, he thought with a small smile.  
  
Theodore cleared his throat,  
  
"No. Not at all, don't be sorry. Spirited little lady isn't she?" he commented grudgingly, never taking his eyes off Marie.  
  
Christian took a chance,  
  
"She gets that from her mother."  
  
Theodore stared transfixed at his granddaughter in the silence that followed, before turning and sitting down on one of the couches with a sigh of exertion.  
  
As everyone remained quiet, he tapped his knee,  
  
"Come here then missy, and you'd better tell me something about yourself I suppose."  
  
As Marie was lifted onto Theodore's knee Christian felt a wave of relief wash over him, and Josephine stood to give him a rare hug.  
  
Finally, on some level at least, his parents, and in particular his father, had accepted who he was, and where he was going as a person.  
  
He smiled at Marie, who was behaving perfectly for her grandfather.  
  
The long road back was now behind him.  
  
He was home.  
  
END. 


	6. Author's Notes

Firstly, thanks to everyone who's read this, and, of course, to everyone who's reviewed! It makes it all worthwhile.  
  
This was never meant to be a serious, gripping piece, it's just kinda, fluffy I guess, and an escape from my boredom! Which explains why it's so 'twee' and kinda pointless!  
  
I just always saw him as the type to have a kid, and be really cute with 'it,' in this case, 'her.' So, I've just sort of re-written the past! But hey, there's nothing wrong with that right?! 


End file.
